Monday, October 17, 2005

Reason #245426 Why I Hate Virginia

How did it get there, you ask? Well, sit right back, and you'll hear the tale:

Evan was mowing the lawn, which after 7 inches of rain had grown like the weeds it is. He picked up a few sticks and tossed them aside, when, right there in front of his eyes, one of the sticks slithered away and wrapped itself into our shrub.

After much whoo-ha, and neighborly advice, Evan and the 9 year old from across the street corralled it into our trashcan and secured the lid.

Mr. Pitt, the darling old man from next door declared the snake to be poisonous, and said "I reckon you should hit it with a baseball bat an' just get rid of it."

Not wanting to kill the snake, we fretted back and forth about what to do with our hostage. The lady across the street said "You could call the police...they'll come take it away for you, you know."

In fact, I did not know.

So we called the police, who came with giant snake-picking-up tongs, and scooped him up into another bucket to release back into the wild far, far, far from my front yard.

And so, the snake is gone, but we were warned that it may come back, because they are territorial (who knew?). And so, now, I watch the leaves rustle in the wind with an uneasy feeling in my belly, waiting for that little snake to come and reclaim his home.